The roads seemed safe enough to start with, their trotting pace soothing his mind into wandering. He pondered the skies for a bit, then the fields around them, occasionally asking questions to Katherine as a break in the silence.

His thoughts always came back to his work, however, their time on the road seemingly perfect to ponder the small problems still in the way of completing his translation. He could see the last page clearly in his mind's eye, read so often as to be engraved into the back of his skull. As they rode on, he pondered those words, throwing himself constantly into the problem of a proper translation.

It was why a reputable scribe was so sought after, and the largest problem concerning the relatively common translation of official documents, like Alexi's task now. The 'King's Language' that such documents were written in was ancient, claimed to be at least as old as the kingdom itself. Nobles were required to learn how to read and write in the royal vernacular, and the church had decreed it a 'holy language' as well. Laws, treaties, declarations, land divisions, everything was written first in the King's Language.

In contrast, the 'common language' used in speech and everyday written word was one of constant change. New words were picked up and old ones left behind on what seemed to be a yearly basis. It was the language of tradesmen and travelers, their contracts not bound by the weight of royal decree, but rather the wealth, influence and reputation that lay behind the words.

Each had their place, Alexi firmly believed, but translating documents between the two was nothing short of a nightmare. The King's Language was simply structured differently, such that a direct translation would be illegible to [i]anyone[/i]. Even after that, many words could mean multiple different things in the common language, or had no true translation anymore at all. Alexi needed to read the true document, understand [i]completely[/i] what it said and what it meant... and then decide how to write it out in the common language without anything being lost.

It was nerve-wracking, tedious work... that could shower a scribe with coin.

Court scribes had short careers, prone to developing damaged eyesight or hands from days writing in poor light, but earned tremendous wealth in coin and favor. Working freelance as Alexi did meant he couldn't dare demand the pay a court scribe could, but he could also work far more years than even the most cautious of his favored counterparts. It meant more work, lower pay and harsher risks if mistakes were made, but it could still pay well, and still earn a man some measure of peace and security.

Thus Alexi threw his mind into the problem that had dragged out his work so long, pondering just how to word each phrase as he and Katherine made their way down the road. 

He nearly kept going, even after Katherine called for them to stop.

"Ah- Ah! Sounds perfect!" Reining back his horse, Alexi moved over to the spot his escort had chosen before dismounting, stumbling as his feet his solid ground. Right, he hadn't ridden a horse for some time, had he? He had forgotten how uncomfortable it could be at first.

Tenderly, he made his way over to Katherine, dragging a small pouch from his packs along with him. His waterskin was within, and though his escort had mentioned stretching legs, he found himself quite comfortable to slide cautiously down to sit upon the soft grass. He forced himself to lower the skin after a few greedy gulps of water, knowing he needed to ration it at least somewhat for their journey. 

"...Really should have gotten out more..." Muttering absently, Alexi leaned back to enjoy the warm light from above. Refreshing, revitalizing, he was eternally grateful Katherine had recommended the stop. He would have gone on if needed -he was sore, not broken- but the deepening shadows of the oncoming forest invoked concern more than hope, with not a beam of light likely to be found. Now, at least, he could carry the memory of this warmth with him when they entered the woods, a small thing tha- "Oh!"

He bolted straight, wincing at the pain in his rear but pushing it aside as he grabbed the pouch at his side. He pulled a small rectangle of iron-hinged wood from it's insides, snapping it open to reveal a set of metal styli laid out between the two wax-covered panels. 

"Of course... of course..." They weren't resting long -certainly nowhere near long enough to root around for the document itself- but he could [i]not[/i] afford to forget this realization. Dexterous fingers gripped a thicker stylus, quickly scratching out symbols in the soft wax. He began to jot a series of quick notes to his future self, enough for him to remember just how to write the next few lines of translation, and save him precious time when at last he could sit and work in earnest.